


storm

by lafbaeyette



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14944586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/lafbaeyette
Summary: The first thought John had was ‘oh my god, I’m kissing my best friend’.The second thought he had was ‘how the fuck am I going to explain this to Eliza’. Because that was another thing that had to be considered, Alex had this strange maybe-something, sometimes-everything relationship with Eliza Schuyler that only the two of them understood.And the last thought he had was ‘oh my god, Alex’s tongue is in my goddamn mouth’, and then Alex did this thing to his lower lip and his brain shorted out. All he could do was react.





	storm

**Author's Note:**

> hey-o, it's been a w-hile, hasn't it? 
> 
> i've officially graduated college, so maybe i'll be able to start updating some things again, get to writing, i may even be considering writing in a new fandom? who knows. 
> 
> for now, i'm still just projecting all my shit onto john and alex, so that's what's happened here. hope y'all enjoy this short lil projecting fic.

Alex was out late again, probably studying or out with Eliza. John really wasn’t sure, and he tried his best not to care, focusing all of his attention on the book splayed out in front of him. He had one of the biggest tests of his life coming up next week, and he needed to study if it was the last thing he did. 

Then the storm started. 

John couldn’t help but continuously glance out the window, watch the rain fall hard to the ground below and lightning streak across the sky. Thunder rumbled, shook the building almost as hard as the trains passing underground. Fear spiked through his body, down his spine and through his gut—but it wasn’t his own. It was sympathy fear, it was fear _for_ someone. 

Alex hated storms, he hated the thunder and the lightning. And even more, he hated being out _in_ storms. John couldn’t help but imagine Alex staring out the doors of the library, unable to bring himself to step out into the thrashing rain. Stuck in place, unsure of what he should do. What he could do. 

Usually when it stormed, and Alex was home, he would nudge John awake. Climb onto the bed with him, curl up and tuck his head under John’s chin, and John would hold him. Happily. Make the other feel safe, secure, like he couldn’t be harmed by this storm because John was protecting him. 

What was he doing now? Was he afraid? 

Or, worse… was someone else holding him? 

John shook his head. That didn’t even matter—it’s not like he’s John’s alone to hold. In fact, Alex made a it blatantly clear that he _wasn’t_ John’s. That he didn’t _want_ to be John’s, and that he did not see a potential future in which he _would_ want to be John’s. 

“We’re friends,” he would say. “You’re my _best_ friend. I don’t want to ruin that.” 

Of fucking course. The first person that John could actually see himself with, the first person that John _loves_ — and he ruins it all by becoming _friends_. Of. Fucking. Course. 

John shut his book. He stretched his arms, shook his shoulders out, tried to get the tension out of his limbs and out of his heart. He didn’t need to be thinking of this right now, or ever. If Alex didn’t want him, that was fine. They were great friends, and John would still love him no matter what. 

He just wished that Alex loved him, too. 

Okay, sure, Alex _did_. Alex loved him, but not in the way that John loved Alex. 

Alex didn’t stay up at night, looking over at John’s sleeping form and memorizing the planes of his exposed back, or the rhythm of his breath. He didn’t make extra stops on the way home for sweets, alcohol, or a new book for John just because he knew John was having a rough day. He didn’t spend all day and all night trying to push John from his mind, remind himself where they stand and try to force himself to _just. get. over. it._

Alex loved him, but not in the way that he loved Alex. 

John had finished putting his things away, changed into some old pajamas, and brushed his teeth by the time Alex finally did come home. He was just pulling his blankets back to get into bed when the door to their small studio dorm room slammed open, the sound of heavy breathing and water dripping the only sounds in the air. 

Alex stood in the doorway, drenched to the bone, so wet that his clothes hung loosely from his frame and his stringy black hair fell in front of his eyes, and his feet squished with each step into the room. 

“Alex, what the hell—” John didn’t finish his sentence, didn’t even finish his stride across the room, because Alex met him halfway. And as soon as they were close enough, Alex grabbed John on both sides of his face and pulled him down and pressed their lips together. 

The first thought John had was _‘oh my god, I’m kissing my best friend’_. 

The second thought he had was ‘ _how the fuck am I going to explain this to Eliza’_. Because that was another thing that had to be considered, Alex had this strange maybe-something, sometimes-everything relationship with Eliza Schuyler that only the two of them understood. 

And the last thought he had was ‘ _oh my god, Alex’s tongue is in my goddamn mouth’_ , and then Alex did this thing to his lower lip and his brain shorted out. All he could do was react. 

John’s arms found their way around Alex’s waist, pulling him close, not even caring that his clothes were getting soaked as well. It wasn’t until a violent shiver coursed through Alex (though it didn’t deter his mouth in any way) that John found his bearings, pulled away and looked down at the sopping wet boy in his arms. 

“We’ll talk about this later, but first we need to get you out of these clothes.” John stepped back, grabbed Alex’s hand and pulled him into the bathroom, where he continued to shake and shiver. John helped him slowly strip layer by layer, until he was down to just his boxers, which he pulled off while John grabbed him a towel, looking away politely until the towel was around Alex’s waist. 

“Bed.” John didn’t order so much as suggested, but for once Alex didn’t put up a fight. He stepped out of the bathroom, leaving John to hang his dripping clothes over the shower before discarding his own wet shirt. 

When John stepped back into the room, Alex was buried under the blankets of John’s bed. John stood by the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his still-bare chest, and cleared his throat. “I guess I should have specified, I meant _your_ bed.” 

“Your bed’s warmer.” It was the first thing Alex had said since he got home, his voice smaller than usual, which pulled concern out of John. He couldn’t argue, just slipped back into bed next to Alex. The two of them sharing a bed wasn’t anything new, Alex had slept in John’s bed plenty of times and vice-versa. Sharing a bed _after_ desperately eating each other’s faces at the door? That was new. 

John wasn’t sure where they stood at that exact moment. He wasn’t sure if anything had changed, or if Alex still wasn’t interested, but just wanted to kiss someone? Nothing made sense at the moment, and John tried as hard as he could to stay a few inches from Alex, to give him his space. 

Alex wasn’t having any space tonight, though. His skin was cold as he pressed against John under the blankets, not seeming to be phased by the fact that he was _just sucking John’s tongue down his fucking throat_ ten minutes ago. 

A few silent minutes passed. John almost thought that Alex had fallen asleep, but his breathing wasn’t slow enough, his body wasn’t relaxed. John knew what Alex looked, felt, and sounded like when he was asleep. 

He cleared his throat. 

“Um, Alex?” 

Alex let out a soft noise, acknowledging John but not offering any words. 

“What was… the… uhm, why did you kiss me?” 

Alex shrugged, and John felt it more than saw it. Centuries seemed to pass before Alex finally verbalized an answer, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too, but that — we don’t, uh — since when do we do that?” 

Another long silence. “Do you still want to date me?” 

It was John’s turn for silence. They’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions. Alex _knew_ how John felt about him. He knew John was hopelessly ass-over-elbows for him, that John would do anything for him, that John had been in love with him since the day they fucking met and Alex had that stupid fucking smile on his stupid fucking face and bought John that stupid fucking ice cream cone and they walked around the lower east side talking until four in the morning. 

John was quiet for so long that Alex actually had to check to see if he was still awake, tilting his head up, his still wet hair running across John’s chest and making him shiver. John’s answer was quiet, even quieter than Alex’s first words that night, “Yeah.” 

“Then we’re dating now.” It wasn’t a question, it was just a statement. They were dating. What the hell did that even mean? “Which means, we can make out now. Which is great, because I’ve wanted to do that since we were sophomores.” 

“What?” Since they were sophomores? Alex has wanted to kiss him for two years? It’s not like John had ever acted opposed to the idea in any manner. 

Alex shushed him. “We can talk about it tomorrow.” He ducked his head down, snuggling closer to John until John finally put his arms around him. “‘M tired, let’s sleep.” 

“I expect a full explanation first thing in the morning, Alexander.” John said, firmly. “I’m not mad about it, but I’m confused as hell.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Alex pressed a kiss to John’s abdomen, just wherever his mouth landed. But John could tell that Alex was smiling when he did it, and that let the confusion fade away for just a moment and let John smile as well. 

Life with Alex was never boring, and honestly, more often than not, confusing as hell. But that didn’t matter. 

John wasn’t afraid of the storm that was Alexander Hamilton. He had been braving it since day one at this college, and it seemed like something was just beginning to stir up again. 

He was ready, as long as it meant getting to hold Alex through it. 

**Author's Note:**

> lemme know what you think, leave a comment and/or a kudo, and i'll send you a hug and/or a kiss to da forehead
> 
> also find me on tumblr @lafbaeyette, come talk to me because i've just found my way back there as well, send me some prompts or headcanons and we'll see if i can get anything more out? 
> 
> thank you for reading lovelies <3


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